Page 4 of One Night Rendezvous

“What do you need, Brian?” I ask. “Cigarettes? Lottery tickets? Condoms so you don’t knock up your twenty-five-year-old assistant manager?”

All pretenses of friendliness vanish. His face goes stone cold and his eyes are completely flat. It’s easy too familiar. That’s what he always looked like just before he blew his top. I’d watched him push my mother through a glass-topped table with those same dead eyes.

“You’ve got a real mouth on you these days. You better watch it before it gets you into the kind of trouble you can’t get out of,” he warns as he tosses a twenty on the counter. “Pump four.”

I take the cash and ring up the sale, sliding the bill into the drawer. I hate him. I hate him so much. And it’s not even just the house. That’s simply the last straw. The minute Uncle Bill had died, and my dad was suddenly the sole heir, he tossed me out on my ass and sold it to the first people who wanted to tear it down and put in a quick-lube place.

“You can go home,” Ashley says, coming up from the back.

Shit. “I’m sorry… I know he’s a customer, but my dad just?—”

“Ashley, you’re not fired.” Gina shakes her head. “Just go home. It’s clear that he’s ruined your mood and, frankly, he ruins everyone’s. So just go. Be back here the day after tomorrow for the early shift.”

I’m so stunned that for a minute I just stand there blinking at her in shock. Then it hits me. My dad is so hated by everyone—for damn good reason—that even Gina has sympathy for me. “Thank you, Gina. I’ll see you Sunday.”

Twenty minutes later, I’m easing my car into the small parking space next to the trailer and shutting off the engine. It’s dark, but I can hear little girl giggles coming from next door. It’s Friday night, so Felicity is staying up late. I glance at the large pizza on the seat beside me. It had been a splurge, picking it up on the way home. But I’ll never eat it all. Correction, I shouldn’t eat it all. I also shouldn’t eat the entire pack of Oreos in my pantry, but that doesn’t mean I won’t.

I wonder if Ford has eaten or if he’s just made something for Felicity while he stayed busy doing all the countless things he has to do to keep their little home so neat and tidy.

It’s not even really a decision. I’m out of my car and standing on his porch, pizza in hand, before I can even think about it. It opens almost instantly. He’s wearing jeans and white T-shirt. His standard uniform minus the flannel shirts he typically tosses on over it.

“Hey, neighbor. Wanna save me from myself and eat part of this pizza? I can’t afford to buy all new jeans because I self-medicated with a ‘works’ from Vito’s.” It’s lame. I know it’s lame. He probably does too, but he grins.

“Works?”

“Extra cheese,” I say it as suggestively as I can. Like we’re not talking about greasy pizza at all. For just a split second, there’s something that flashes across his face, something that makes me think maybe he wishes I were there for something other than pizza. Then a peal of childish giggles pours from the direction of Felicity’s bedroom and the spell is broken.

“We’ve not had dinner yet,” he said. “We had a bunch of stuff we had to do after school. Pizza would be great.”

When he steps back to let me in, I know this is a big deal. He’s never had any guests to my knowledge. Which is significant, since I’ve been super nosy and asking more questions than I ought to about someone whose just my neighbor. I’ve yet to see anyone coming and going from their house other than him and the kiddo.

I follow him inside and set the pizza on the counter while he calls for Felicity who immediately comes bounding down the hallway. The pigtails I did for her that morning aren’t quite as neat as they once were, but the tiara perched precariously over one of them tells the story of how her hair got mussed. “Hey, munchkin. You hungry? It’s the works, but we can pick around anything you don’t like.”

“I love pizza!!!!!” With that, she dives toward me, wrapping herself around my leg so tightly that I stumble.

Ford is there. He reaches out, steadying me, his arm going around me for just a single and all too brief moment. It’s the first real contact between us. We’ve talked. We’ve even flirted a little. But he’s never touched me. Not even once. Maybe if he had, I would have been prepared for the shock of it, for the current of electricity and heat that runs through me at such simple, innocent contact. If he can make my head spin with just a casual touch, what the hell would happen when he kissed me?

That thought echoed in my mind for one reason. When. Not if. When. Like I already know it’s an inevitability. I’m so fucked. Figuratively—and with any luck—literally.

FOUR

Ford

"Thanks for making sure she gets to school today," I whisper to one of the older women in the trailer park. I don't normally like to leave Felicity, I definitely prefer to make sure she gets to where she needs to go, but today I have to work early. "I'm doing an extra job at the shop ..."

Mabel holds her hand up. "Ford, I don't wanna know about it. You may not be involved in what you were previously, but if you are, I don't want to know about it."

My face is trained not to show anything, and I'd like to not be involved in what I was previously, but I have bills to pay, a fucking kid to raise. Food, after-school care, clothes, it all costs money, and I'm running lower and lower every single day. "I appreciate it, Mabel."

"I know you do, and I'll always help you."

Felicity is snoozing on Mabel's couch as I leave. She'll wake her up in enough time to make sure she's ready for school, and then verify that she's dropped off. This is one thing I won't have to worry about today. Getting into my old-ass SUV, I back out of the driveway and head to the main road. The sun isn't even fully up yet. I wish I were still at home in bed, waiting to face the day instead of already looking at it head on.

Pulling into the gas station, I park, and glance inside. Ashley. She's a complication I hadn't counted on. A surprise I wasn't prepared for. She looks fucking miserable standing there behind the register. Like she's trying to hold back tears that are threatening to escape down that beautiful face of hers. Her fucker of a father should be in jail next to Felicity's mother, but some people don't get what's coming to them the way they should.

Getting out, I walk in, tipping my chin at her as I head over to the cooler. There's a plethora of energy drinks that all taste horrible and make my heart pound, but I need them to stay awake. Going up to the counter, I slap the can down, and give her a smirk. "Pack of Marlboro Reds too."

She looks me up and down, her light eyes traveling all over my body. "Both of those things are going to kill you, ya know? Fifteen thirty-five."

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